


i know i’m strong from all the trouble i’ve been through

by Pallet_and_Cerulean



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 19:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18198491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pallet_and_Cerulean/pseuds/Pallet_and_Cerulean
Summary: Yuri hits a growth spurt right before his first Olympics and has trouble dealing with his newfound height. Otabek is there to reassure him, though.





	i know i’m strong from all the trouble i’ve been through

Yuri was beyond furious. He’d been having his best season yet, and was skating to programs he liked more than any others he’d ever had. Yet, just before his first Olympics, his body was determined to make him skate like crap. In what Yuri swore must have been record time, he shot up several centimeters and the new height was not working with him, to say the least. His legs were too long and he kept tripping himself up, not to mention the fact that his center of gravity was off now too. 

It was beyond infuriating to be falling on jumps and screwing up maneuvers that he could normally do without a second thought. Even though Viktor and Yakov assured that he would get past it and be scoring like he used to if he just gave it a little time, Yuri didn’t have that kind of time to wait. If he wanted to put up even a respectable score at the Olympics, he was going to have to majorly step up his game, and fast. Because if he kept skating like he was, he could forget about the podium. 

So, Yuri had taken up late night practicing, after everyone else had packed up and gone home. It was easier to focus when the rink was empty and he had more room to work with. And, best of all, there was no one around to give him shit for pushing himself too hard. 

Despite the frigid bite in the air, sweat was rolling down Yuri’s temples, cooling on his skin until he felt clammy all over. And just about every muscle and joint in his body ached, either from the punishing pace he had set, going into jump after jump with little in that way of breathers, or from all the falls he had taken. Pulling in a deep breath, Yuri picked up speed, preparing for the quad sal he had been fighting with since the ice cleared out. He grit his teeth angrily, determined to finally land the jump the way he knew he could. But the second his skates left the ice and he threw himself into the jump, he knew he had over rotated. 

Yuri hit the ice hard, stumbling forward on the landing. He turned just in time so that his shoulder took the brunt of the blow instead of his face. A dull thump echoed through the open rink as he hit and slid across the ice. Pain bloomed across his skin and sunk deep into the joint, making Yuri wince. Though, the blow to his already hurting pride stung more than hitting the ice. Laying there for just a beat, Yuri blew out a rough breath then grit his teeth, fighting against the pricking heat at the back of his eyes. He slammed a fist against the ice and gouged at it with a toe pick, venting some of his mounting frustration before he got back to his feet. 

Just one more try. Just one more. 

Skates firmly underneath him again, Yuri tried to shake off the exhaustion that was building in his limbs. Feeling like he did, he was kidding himself if he thought he could actually land a jump at all, much less one he had been struggling with. He was all but panting for breath, too hot and too cold all at once, and his limbs felt more like lead than flesh and bone. But the rage and frustration burning bright and deep in his chest was stronger. 

Yuri skated in a wide arch around the rink, setting up for the jump one last time. And before he was off the ice, he knew he wasn’t going to land that jump at all, much less cleanly. Sure enough, the ice was cold and unforgiving when he stumbled and fell, sliding until the back of his head hit the barrier. 

Shouting a string of Russian swears at the ceiling, listening to the hatred in his voice echo through the empty space, Yuri eased himself up until he was sitting with his back to the wall. He was long past exhausted, everything hurt and throbbed, and he didn’t even have anything to show for his efforts but a series of botched jumps and sloppy footwork. Sucking in deep breaths to ease the deep ache in his lungs, Yuri raked a hand back through his hair, forcing the sweat dampened strands away from his face. He was sick of it all. Sick of his stupid new height. Sick skating like shit. Sick of everyone coddling him and telling him everything would get better.

Just then, pulling Yuri from his angry, spiraling thoughts, two large, warm hands came to rest on his shoulders. Even once the initial surprise that someone else was still at the rink had worn away, Yuri still hissed and recoiled, one hand sinking right into the fresh bruise on his shoulder. Spinning around, Yuri was met with Otabek’s calm, if not a bit concerned, gaze looking back at him. He offered a small smile, Yuri doing his best to muster the same. Though, he couldn’t really bring himself to do much more than try to soften the icy rage he knew was written across his expression. 

“What are you still going here?” Yuri asked, the words coming out more venomous than he had intended. The roiling unease in his chest was leaking out and into his words, searching for something to lash out at. Yuri tried his best to temper it, though, not wanting Otabek to be the target. Anyone but him. 

Luckily, Otabek didn’t seem to be phased, taking it all in stride. “Just watching you,” he replied, light and easy. 

Yuri bit back the dozens of sarcastic and brooding responses on the tip of his tongue, instead just letting out a thin sigh and wiping at the cold sweat rolling down the back of his neck. Only the sound of his own ragged breaths, slowly evening back out, echoed through the rink. Yuri shifted back so that he could lean up against the wall again, Otabek right behind him. For a while, they just stayed like that, Yuri stuck deep in his darkening thoughts and Otabek offering quiet support. 

Finally, Yuri was the one to break the silence. “Why can’t I fucking skate anymore?” he choked out past the lump forming in his throat. Though they were hardly more than an angry, broken whisper, the words seemed loud and weighty in the deserted rink. Yuri’s hands curled into fists, knuckles turning white. 

“Yura.” There was something undeniably sad in Otabek’s voice, but it was softened with a soothing edge, gentle and warm. “You just have to adjust. I promise your skating will start to feel better soon,” he said, pouring all of his conviction into the words.

From anyone else, those words would have made Yuri’s blood boil. He swore the assurances that he’d get the hang of everything eventually were burned into his brain with how many times he’d heard them. It was always the same. ‘Just give it time,’ they said, ‘you’ll get used to it.” But, from Otabek, the words just snuffed out the rage in his heart, leaving it open for his insecurities and sorrows to come creeping in. 

Gently, Otabek’s hand came back to Yuri’s shoulders, careful not to put too much pressure on any of his sore spots. The weight there was grounding and reassuring, forcing Yuri to remember that he wasn’t really alone, no matter how he tried to isolate himself. Even through all the growing pains and godawful skates he was turning out, Otabek was a constant, always by his side. 

“I’m trying so hard,” Yuri said, his voice wavering then breaking. The stubborn heat that had been prickling at he back of his eyes turned to tears, gathering and threatening to spill. Clenching his jaw until his teeth hurt, Yuri fought back the urge to cry, just pressing his nails harder into his palms. 

“I know you are,” Otabek soothed, bent down so his breath ruffled Yuri’s hair and so he could wrap his arms around the smaller boy’s neck, hands trailing down to rest against his chest. 

Pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, Yuri let out a shuddering breath. Before, as awful as the frustration and anger felt, they’d been easier to ignore than the haunting insecurities buried underneath. Those were more deep rooted, not so superficial. At least he could use the anger, throwing himself into his skating with everything he had. Now, he was just hurting. 

“Come here,” Otabek urged gently, catching Yuri’s arm to help pull him to his feet. And once Yuri’s skates were underneath him, he clamored over the short divider between them, sinking into Otabek’s embrace. He didn’t care that his legs ached under his weight, or that Otabek’s arms pressed into the darkening bruises on his back. He just focused on the warmth and comfort, fisting his trembling hands in the fabric over Otabek’s back. 

“It’s alright, zhanym,” Otabek soothed, a hand on the back of Yuri’s head as he guided it into the crook of his neck. “There’s no one else here, you don’t need to hold back,” he whispered against Yuri’s ear, quiet and gentle. 

Another shaky breath in, another out, and Yuri let the tears spill down his cheeks. His muffled sobs, damped by Otabek’s shoulder, sounded out through the rink, breaking Otabek’s heart just a little more each time. Yuri felt so fragile in his arms, then, trembling and clinging to him like his life depended on it. When all the fire and rage burnt out, Yuri always seemed small, breakable.

For a while, Yuri just cried into his shoulder. Feeling something in his chest twist painfully, Otabek pulled Yuri a little tighter to him. He whispered soothing words against the shell of his ear and stroked a hand through soft blonde tresses. More than anything, Otabek just wanted to take away all the hurt he was feeling. Yuri didn’t deserve to go through that. 

Eventually, the sobs quieted to pitiful sniffles and hiccups, Yuri scrubbing at his eyes and nose with the back of his hand. When he was ready, he eased back out of Otabek’s arms, eyes red rimmed and a little glassy. Though, he looked more relaxed and at ease than he had before, the hard lines of frustration and pain in his expression softened some. That, at least, was comforting to see. It helped to assure Otabek that Yuri would get through this and that everything would work itself out eventually. 

“You okay now?” Otabek asked quietly, hands falling to slip in his pockets. 

“Not really, but I guess I feel a little better,” Yuri replied with a quiet sigh. After a stretch of silence, green eyes meeting hazel ones, Yuri dropped his gaze from Otabek’s with just a twinge of pink on his cheeks. He busied himself with putting the guards on his skates, a bit of embarrassment bubbling up in his chest. It wasn’t the first time he’d cried in front of Otabek, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, but he still felt just a little ashamed, somehow. Though, when he looked back up and caught the genuine care and concern on Otabek’s face, all of that melted away. 

“I don’t think I can stand much longer, so I’m going to go change. Come with me?” Yuri asked, changing the subject. Without Otabek’s arms wrapped securely around his back, helping to support his weight, Yuri’s legs were really starting to ache. And with all the fatigue from admittedly pushing himself too hard, they felt like they wanted to give out beneath him.

“You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” Otabek asked, worry etched into his features. 

“I’m fine, just skated too hard,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “So, you coming?” Without really waiting for an answer, Yuri laced his fingers with Otabek’s. 

“If you want me to,” Otabek agreed, letting Yuri pull him along towards the locker room. 

Once they were inside, Yuri didn’t waste any time sitting down on a bench and pulling his skates off. He tossed them over to the side, Otabek taking a seat beside him. Then, he dug through his bag, pulling out a clean change of clothes that weren’t covered in rink ice and sweat like the ones he was currently wearing. Once he found them, Yuri stood, albeit not without grumbling about it first, and pulled his shirt over his head. He only stilled when he felt Otabek’s hand come to rest high on his hip. 

Yuri’s breath hitched in his throat, Otabek’s hand warm against his bare skin. His heart skipped a beat in his chest, suddenly seeming to forget about the hurt that had been weighing it down in favor of traitorously fluttering at the steady touch. Though, when Yuri tried to turn to face him, Otabek just tightened his grip, holding Yuri still. 

“Yura, promise me you’ll stop skating like you did today,” Otabek said, tone serious and firm. 

“What?” Yuri rasped, finding his throat suddenly dry. He swallowed hard and discreetly wetted his lips, willing his heart to settle down. He was having a hard time focusing on what Otabek was saying with his fingers still curled against Yuri’s hipbone. 

“You’re covered in bruises,” Otabek replied. He stood up behind Yuri, his free hand coming to trace along the darkening marks all across his back. Fire seeped into Yuri’s skin at every place Otabek touched. The muscle beneath was tender and sore from the bruising, but that didn’t stop Yuri’s stomach from clenching at the feel of Otabek’s bare skin against his own. 

“I’m fine.” The words came tumbling out in a ragged breath. Yuri wasn’t even really sure what he was saying, just that he wanted to make sure Otabek’s hands never left his skin. Because, all of the hurt and anger from before was a distant memory when Otabek touched him like that. 

A long finger trailed up his shoulder and over his back, thumb running down the first few notches of his spine. Yuri couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through him, his own hands clenching in the clean shirt he was holding. Something like molten silver pooled low in the pit of his stomach, heart beating faster, lighter. Anticipation swelled in Yuri’s chest with each moment, each gentle sweep of Otabek’s hand. He let out a slow breath, trying to reign back the warmth and affection clouding his mind. 

Then, all of a sudden, a thumb dug into the bruise on his lower back, hard and all at once. And it hurt like hell. Yelping, Yuri jumped away from Otabek, the hand on his hip releasing its grip. Fresh tears stung at Yuri’s eyes, the shooting pain reaching deep into the muscle. He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to cry out and rub at the stinging spot. Instead, he spun on Otabek, blinking back against the tears and digging his nails into his palms. 

“God, Beka, what was that for?” Yuri growled, having every intention of making Otabek feel guilty. As if he wasn’t sore enough as it was, he really didn’t need Otabek making him feel worse. 

Though instead of answering, Otabek just stepped forward warily, like he was afraid of Yuri snapping at him. He gently took Yuri’s wrists in his hands, before sliding them down until their fingers were laced together, trying to calm him down. “I’m pretty sure someone who’s fine wouldn’t react like that,” Otabek replied, gaze leveled at Yuri. “I’m sorry for hurting you, though. I didn’t realize you were that sore,” he added, his brows furrowing just slightly as a worried frown pulled down at his lips. 

Letting out a huff, Yuri backed down, the apologetic glimmer in Otabek’s eyes making his heart melt just a little. Otabek was just looking out for him and he didn’t deserve Yuri’s biting remarks. Yuri let out a calming breath, running a hand back through his messy, still damp hair. 

“Maybe I overdid it a little,” he conceded, grumbling. With pride and stubbornness set out of the way, he could agree with Otabek that skating that way he had wasn’t smart. Reckless or not, Yuri knew that he had to be careful enough to avoid getting injured. Bruises and scrapes would heal quickly enough, but broken bones and torn ligaments could put a skater out for an entire season, if not wreck their career altogether. 

“So you’ll stop skating like that?” Otabek asked, something hopeful coloring his tone. Still, his mouth was set into a grim line, firm and serious. 

“No promises, but I’ll try,” Yuri replied, eyes downcast. Then, he looked up at Otabek through dark lashes, desperately hoping not to see disappointment written across his expression. The softness there instead took Yuri by surprise, but it certainly wasn’t unwelcome. 

“Good, now finished getting changed,” Otabek said, the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

Something in Yuri’s chest felt hollow when Otabek turned away from him and sat back on the bench, eyes respectfully on the floor. A thin sigh sifted through his lips as he tugged his shirt on over his head. He quickly changed into a clean pair of pants too, but all the while, Yuri chewed at the inside of his cheek. Some intense kind of longing ached deep in his bones, already missing the kindling warmth of Otabek’s hands against his skin. 

It felt completely absurd; his thoughts lingered on poor skates while his body, the very thing that had been causing him nothing but misery for weeks, was all caught up in pinning. And after what? Just a few simple touches? It didn’t add up. Yet, Yuri couldn’t deny that they had him coming undone, a subtle tremble settling over his hands and a crushing hunger resonating in his bones. He couldn’t shake the feelings either, despite his best efforts to block them out. 

Once he was finished changing, Yuri cleared his throat, partially to catch Otabek’s attention, and partially to try and dispel the embarrassed heat he could feel creeping up the back of his neck. Otabek turned back his way, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “You okay?” he asked, getting to his feet.

The question took Yuri a little off guard, but his heart thumped in his chest and he thought he was just a little too in love. Not that Otabek needed to know that, though, not right then. So, he just let a wolfish grin pull across his lips, and he realized he didn’t even need to force it. “Don’t worry so much, I’ll be fine,” Yuri said, and he meant it. Even through all the exhaustion and soreness, he could feel some of his pride and fire flickering back to life. 

Even if things were tough right then, he would get his shit together and skate the best he ever had for all the world to see at the Olympics. And even if he didn’t, he’d give it everything he had. Because Otabek was beside him, and that meant everything to him. Yuri wouldn’t let him down, and he was tired of making Otabek worry about him. So, he couldn’t give Otabek a single reason to doubt him. 

“That’s the Yuri I like to see,” Otabek replied. And Yuri just smiled back, a real, genuine smile, feeling more like himself than he had in a long time. 

Besides, Yuri thought with a wicked grin, making out with Otabek after a medal-winning skate would make one hell of a performance in the kiss and cry.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not totally sure I’m in love with how this turned out, but, ehh that’s life. In any case, I hope you enjoyed reading it! Any comments and kudos would be totally appreciated! And, I’m thinking of making a second part to this, so let me know if that’s something you would be interested in. Thanks!


End file.
